In 1970, Richard Kabat saw an opportunity for an entertainment-centric weekly and launched Cleveland Scene with a loan from his brother. Then he and his inexperienced staff held on long enough to catch one of the last waves of money...

Lately, like scores of other music critics, I've been getting into some "hipster-metal bands," so named because guys like us listen to them. Real metal dudes hate people like me. And that certainly includes D.X. Ferris, my co-worker and author of a new book about Slayer's Reign in Blood, which is apparently some sort of classic metal album.

If you believe the reports, the Cure is putting on a half-decent live show for the first time in 20 years. On their current tour, the perennial goth-rockers are playing three-hour sets featuring some of their best tunes and are actually putting a little effort into it.

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History is written by the victors. That's why you've heard of Motown or Stax Records and not Cleveland's own soul upstart, Way Out Records. Housed in a storefront on East 55th St. between Euclid and Chester, the label grew out of an odd-couple partnership between a hustler and a cop.

In a way, The Cleveland Confidential Book Tour is just like the old days, when Pagans frontman Mike Hudson, Dead Boys guitarist Cheetah Chrome, and Human Switchboard frontman Bob Pfeifer would pile into a van, drive across the country, and convince occasionally indifferent audiences to listen to them. They're even calling the readings "gigs" -- gigs with less equipment, as Pfeifer says.